


Sickness

by roosebolton



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aerwin, Bittersweet, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roosebolton/pseuds/roosebolton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short vignette about Aerys II Targaryen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sickness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theelusiveflamingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/gifts).



Aerys was in one of his rages.

The Iron Throne cuts when it will, and the wound on his thigh was too deep to allow him to sit comfortably. Bed-bound, he tossed and turned and howled in pain, swearing by all his dragon ancestors that he next Septa he saw would be set aflame right there in the bedroom.

Rhaella was a dutiful wife and tried to calm him, but he cursed and shouted at her just the same as ever - perhaps worse, perhaps not, since Aerys was a capricious man with moods as ever-changing as the sea.

She did not return again.

It would seem Aerys was content to lie in bed alone, unmoving but for restlessness, unwilling even to rise from his own filth long enough to use the privy, until a passing servant heard him sobbing quietly - the same way his sister-wife did when he left her rooms.

_"Tywin… Tywin… where are you… my Hand, have you forsaken me, too…?"_

The servant rushed to the Tower of the Hand, waking Lord Tywin and explaining what she’d heard. Tywin, for his part, hardly rushed - for where was Aerys to go? He could wait a few moments longer.

Wordlessly, the Hand entered the King’s chambers, not unmoved by the filth and tears of his King, but not undaunted. He strode to the bed, quietly picked up His Grace, and took him to the bath, filling the basin with hotter water than a Lion could stand. Aerys no longer ranted and raved, just groaned, his body wracked with pain, tears reddening his eyes. The Hand stripped his King as he would a child, Aerys offering no resistance but a strangled sob as his breeches brushed his wound. 

Tywin wrapped one arm around Aerys’ shoulders, the other beneath his knees, and lowered him gently into the scalding hot water.

Aerys sighed with pleasure, the heat working wonders on his aches and pains already. He reached for his impassive Lion, tugging him close by the fabric of his tunic, pulling him in for a clumsy kiss, Tywin pressing his lips to his King’s, returning the kiss, only briefly.

The Targaryen king curled his arms around Tywin’s neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

_"My sweet Lion… you’re the only one I can trust…"_

He let go of Tywin, his body sinking down into the water, splashing everywhere, the hint of a smile on his thin face.


End file.
